Universal Path
by Marius Sidorov
Summary: A collection of drabbles, vignettes, and oneshots based on the events of the Elibe games. Various characters. 004: Madelyn.
1. 001: Lowen, Rebecca

**Universal Path**

**001:** Lowen, Rebecca

* * *

The rain that night fell on him like ice as he rode to the small house at the edge of the village but he did not feel its icy chill – he only heard the muffled squelching of the mud beneath his mount's shod hooves and the sense of urgency that pushed them on through the downpour.

Finally they reached their destination. He led his horse into the stable and climbed from its steaming flanks. After putting the beast in one of the stalls he was off; minutes later he was pounding on the door of the small house.

"Rebecca!" he shouted over the storm. "Rebecca, it's me!"

The woman who answered the door was not yet twenty, but her eyes held the grief of one who had seen too much too soon – and then lost it all. "Lowen." Her voice was flat and expressionless. She stepped aside to allow him inside the house.

Lowen stepped inside. "Is he asleep?" he asked as they stepped into the main room; the warmth from the fire in the hearth washed over him.

Rebecca shook her head. "I was just about to feed him and then put him to bed." She walked to the side of the room, where a homemade crib stood against the wall. Carefully she reached in and lifted out a small bundle; Lowen made out a pale face and curious green eyes from the swaddling clothes.

He closed his eyes and said a prayer as Rebecca took a seat on the floor beside the fire. With one hand she began to unbutton the top of her shirt, and Lowen averted his gaze as Rebecca brought her son to her breast – he saw only a glimpse of a swollen pink nipple before the baby latched on and suckled hungrily.

"Why are you here, Lowen?" she asked softly. She brushed a small green curl from her son's forehead.

Lowen cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be alone," he began. "You're young, a wife and mother who was widowed far too early." A memory came to his mind of Rebecca on her wedding day as she held onto her husband's hand and beamed at all the well-wishers. He pushed the thought away, keenly aware of Rebecca's gaze upon him.

"Lord Eliwood set up lodgings for you in the castle, if you want them. He also requested that I ask for your presence there – not as a servant, but as a friend." He glanced at Rebecca quickly; she was no longer looking at him, but watching her baby intently. Was she looking for a trace of her husband in her small son's face?

She didn't answer for some time. "Wil built this house for us," she said. "He did it all by himself. I'm fine here." Wolt yawned sleepily; she buttoned up her shirt again and patted the baby's back until he gave a small burp. "I don't need your pity or your charity," she said, "nor do I want it. We'll be fine."

"It isn't safe for a young woman with a baby alone out here! And it does not need to be charity if you do not want it – Lord Eliwood is looking for a trusted woman to aid Lady Ninian after she gives birth." Lowen closed his eyes briefly. "I think he suspects that her time here is almost over." The gravity of his words hung in the air between them like a flung javelin frozen midflight.

Again she said nothing for a long moment. She got up and put Wolt back in his crib before she spoke. "I'll go," she said. "I pledged my loyalty to House Pherae a long time ago, when I was only a girl. It's only right." She turned to Lowen. "Will you tell him?"

_But you're still a girl!_ Lowen wanted to tell her. Instead he nodded and headed back to the door. "Yeah." He opened it, but paused for a moment before stepping through. "Wil was a great man and a good friend, Rebecca," he said softly, "but you know he wasn't the only man who loved you."

The door slammed shut before he could hear her response.

* * *

_Hello. I am Marius; thank you for taking a moment to read this collection of interrelated drabbles, vignettes, and oneshots based on the events of the Elibe games and my own personal headcanon from before, after, and during the games. Feedback, critique, and opinions are more than welcome. Thank you for reading._

_For those who are interested notes can be found on my Livejournal.  
_


	2. 002: Lucius, Raven

**Universal Path  
**

**002:** Lucius, Raven

* * *

Raven has spent the entire evening watching the campfire, from its great initial blaze just before sundown to mere glowing embers hours later in the inky blackness of the night. He simply sits there watching; when the last of the embers finally sizzles out he makes no move to start the fire again.

Lucius climbs out of his bedroll and does it himself. Sleep has been elusive to him—it is spring, and the night air is alive with the mating calls of frogs and nightjars. But there is something nagging at him and when the campfire begins to blaze once again he turns to his companion.

"Lord Raymond," he says quietly, "it is late."

But it seems that Raven does not hear him. His eyes reflect the blaze again, and the drawn steel curve of his blade glows in alternating bands of orange and silver in the moonlight, the freshly sharpened edge bright and sharp. His lips move, the action barely noticeable, and Lucius barely manages to catch the words.

"Ostia will burn."

Lucius stays silent – there is nothing more he can do at this point. Raven's will is resolute. Three years of wandering the continent after the destruction of House Cornwell have changed him and forced him to grow up too quickly. It is no wonder he is so cold now. Lucius still remembers a time when the boy – because that is all he really is – would smile and laugh freely as he told stories and ran through the gardens at Cornwell.

Perhaps if he surrounded himself with other people again he would give up his thoughts of revenge. Lucius climbs back into his bedroll as the memories come back – young Nils and his sister, the thief Matthew, venerable old Wallace and Lady Lyndis of Caelin. They were good people, Lucius thinks as he closes his eyes and wills himself to go to sleep. It would be nice to see them again.

"Good night, Lord Raymond."

* * *

_This chapter gave me many difficulties - it is too stiff, for one thing, and I am not entirely proud of it. Regardless, I thank you for reading._


	3. 003: Legault, Isadora

**Universal Path**

**003:** Legault, Isadora**  
**

* * *

There is a subtle peace as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, sinking deep into the earth even as the dying light falls on the bloated and broken bodies dotted across the field. He picks his way among them, pausing every few steps to lift something from the bloodied ground: a handful of muddied coins, a dull steel blade left forgotten in the heat of battle. Out of the corner of his eye he spies something glinting in the dying light a few feet away.

"Well now," he muses to no one in particular, "what do we have here?"

Carefully he makes his way to the patch of grass and crouches down. There, between the sparse green blades, is a ring – three silver bands woven intricately together by a master smith to create a perfect circle.

He holds the ring up to the light for a moment before clenching it in his fist. "Pretty. But no place for such a trinket on the battlefield."

Again he looks around and for the first time notices a small calloused hand a few feet away from where he found the ring. He stands up and walks closer to investigate.

It is a face he knows well, one he has seen in his dreams countless times over the long years that passed since his time with the lordlings; even as a knight the years have been kind to her. One hand unconsciously raises to brush against scarring beneath his left eye and then his hair, now cropped short and lined with silver, as he crouches beside her.

"Good to see you again, Dame Knight," he says as he slips the ring onto the second finger of her left hand. "Beautiful as always."

She says nothing and continues to stare up at the rapidly darkening sky with empty blue eyes.

* * *

_The ending of this chapter was intended to be abrupt though I am uncertain as to how well it was executed. Thank you for reading - feedback is welcome._


	4. 004: Madelyn

**Universal Path**

**004:** Madelyn

* * *

She will weave a basket.

That is what the wise woman Adala tells Madelyn when she wakes suddenly one morning only to rush outside and heave the contents of her stomach onto the brown and withered grass behind the ger; Adala presses her hand to Madelyn's forehead - there is no fever, only a seed of life taking root. _Madelyn feels the quickening soon after and thinks she understands._

Madelyn will weave a basket, using the special grasses she has picked and dyed in the bright blues and yellows and reds of the Lorca - but she cannot use too much green, the wise woman tells her, else the chief's line will be continued only by daughters, not sons. _That is why the chief has only sisters, because his mother used too much green in her weaving._

A frame is given to Madelyn by the chief's youngest sister along with brief instructions on what to weave, the patterns and designs to use, and how to weave them, and why, and when and countless other rules that she can barely understand in the other woman's rapid Lorcan dialect.

This is all the help Madelyn receives and though she is still not entirely sure what she must do she does not mind. Instead she focuses on her task: alternating bands of azure and yellow, striped with crimson to make the shapes and forms so favored by the Lorca and with the green she accents the edges of the design. She creates sigils, signs whose meanings she does not know - _for peace maybe, or perhaps protection_ - even as her husband's people go about their lives and pay her little attention as they are wont to do. _They are wary of outsiders, she had been told, though she did not quite know why._

She will weave a basket and with it welcome her child into this strange new world.

* * *

_Marius here - I apologize for my extended absence yet it seems that every time I try to become more active online something in real life prohibits me from doing so. This time I hope to be around for some time at least before I am once again swept away by life.  
_

_The use of italicized interjections was a device I enjoyed using albeit in a slightly different manner when I worked on "Lady Gold Eye". I had hoped to work on l__onger pieces during my "hiatus" - mostly _Thicker Than Water_ - although working on shorter pieces such as this was also enjoyable. Perhaps because I usually write from a male perspective this drabble seemed much more interesting to work on._

_Feedback and critique is appreciated. Thank you.  
_


End file.
